I speak without thinking. “You’re going to restrict the entire company from serving this building because of that?”
Stonehart humors me with an answer. “A company’s employees are its most important asset. Their behavior reflects the organization as a whole. If FedEx decided that clown is good enough for them, it tells me they’re sloppy. I do not do business with sloppy organizations.”
“What about the other tenants in the building?” I ask. “Won’t that piss them off?”
When I hear myself and realize how improper my question is, my cheeks flame red again.
Stonehart’s eyes darken, as if he cannot believe I asked that question. I open my mouth to apologize for my imprudence, hating the way my professional skills have evaporated into thin air. I’m cut off by a short, barked laugh.
“Miss Ryder.” He sounds amused. “I believe that is the most direct and honest question anybody has dared ask me in weeks.” He takes my elbow again and leads me to the elevators. I have to take two quick steps to match one of his long strides.
“Yes,” he continues. “They will be ‘pissed off.’ But the perk of owning a building—” he hits the elevator call button, “—is that you get to make executive decisions.” He gives me an unreadable glance as the doors open. “That is, at the risk of being questioned by inexperienced interns.”
If that isn’t a loaded remark, I don’t know what is. I flush scarlet red for the third time since I’ve met him. I’ve never had a man throw me so off balance.
The elevator is packed, for which I’m infinitely thankful. The trip up will give me some time to properly compose myself.
Gratitude turns to panic when the crowd files out, meek as mice, when Stonehart steps in. None of the people waiting in the lobby follow us.
The doors close. I’m alone in here with him. My heart’s beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.
He catches me staring. “Impressed?” he asks.
“They know you,” I manage.
His dark eyes flash with amusement. “Astute.”
He swipes his left wrist in front of a card-sized scanner. A beep sounds, and the light to the highest floor turns on.
“Biometric NFC chip,” he tells me in an off-handed way. “A tiny kernel I had implanted six months ago. Developed by the research team at ZilTech. One of my subsidiary firms. I understand you’ve dealt with them?”
Stonehart’s phone buzzes before I can answer. He looks at it. “Excuse me.”
I step half an inch back so I can admire his profile without being caught. He has one of those faces that only get better with age. I try not to eavesdrop on his conversation. I’m struck by the fact that sharing an elevator this way must be a very rare occasion for him.
And so far, all you’ve done is make yourself look like an idiot, a tiny voice derides me.
The elevator shoots up. Just three floors from our destination, it comes to a sudden halt. At the same moment, Stonehart drops the phone from his ear.
The doors stay closed.
He turns to me in a predatory move. “Going higher requires a retina scan,” he tells me. I can literally feel the reverberations from his rumbly voice. “The first swipe can be faked. This cannot. We have thirty seconds before the elevator goes back down.”
He looks at me. I blink dumbly.
“You should know,” he adds, “that I hate wasting my time.”
He takes one step to me as the words sink in. Only the slimmest margin of air separates our bodies.
“Lilly.” The way he says my name sends a shiver of arousal down my spine. I crane my neck up to look at him. “Impress me. Prove that I’m not wasting my time.”
My nerves are beyond frazzled. My palms are sweaty. My mind races for the right thing to say, but all it finds is blank space. His smell fills my lungs with every breath, destroying my composure.
“W-what do you want?” I stammer.
“I want…” his powerful arms jut out against the mirrored wall on either side of me. I’m trapped. My breath catches as he leans in and his cheek scratches against mine.
“I want,” he rumbles in my ear, “your mind.”
My knees go weak. Thank God he doesn’t see me falter as he pushes off and turns around, back to me. The insane attraction flaring to life inside me is all wrong. The incomprehensible power dynamic Stonehart seems to revel in confuses me even more.
He clasps both hands behind his back. “I want to take the company public,” he announces, the same way an arrogant professor would to his understudy. “My board disagrees with me. But, I don’t care. I made them. They owe their livelihoods to me.”
He glances briefly over his shoulder. “What do you say to that?”
“The board—”
“Fuck the board!” Stonehart’s shoulders tighten. “I want to know what you think about my desires.”
“Mr. Stonehart, I don’t know anything about the inner workings of your company…”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, Miss Ryder.” He places special, derogatory emphasis on the title. “I’m not looking for the vague textbook answer all you consultants like to offer to protect your own asses.”
He whirls around, and his eyes bore into me like augurs. “I want to know what you think, Lilly. Should I take the company public? Yes or no.”
I square my shoulders and rise to his challenge. “Yes.”
“Reasons. Now!”
I lift my chin. Business questions like this were what I expected. “Stonehart Industries has the richest portfolio of subsidiaries I’ve ever seen. Investors will be chomping at the bit to get a taste. A company its size going public after being private for so long is unheard of. You can raise billions in equity, expanding your economic power. Keep available shares low. Make owning a piece of Stonehart Industries a prized commodity. And never give up majority control.”
Stonehart looks at me. His impassive face gives nothing away.
I’d imagine most people would break under that stare. But he’s already seen me at my worst. I have nothing to lose.
I meet his gaze, back straight, eyes unwavering.
Suddenly, the corner of his mouth twitches up in a small smile. He nods once. “I knew I made the right decision about you.”
He turns, and brings his eye to the scanner. The elevator rises the remainder of the way.
I steady myself against the railing when he’s not looking.
What the fuck was all that about?
I’d just given him the biggest bullshit answer in the world. Instead of challenging my assumptions, he seemed pleased with my spark.
Maybe it was a test. Maybe it wasn’t the answer that was important, but my reaction to the situation.
The doors open. Stonehart steps aside and gestures me through. As I pass, his hand slips to the small of my back.
It takes all the willpower I have to suppress my satisfied smile.
We walk down a long, immaculate hallway. One side is lined with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking San Jose. The view is breathtaking.
There’s a secretary’s desk at the end, attended by a young blonde. Two massive oak doors dominate the wall behind her.
She stands as we approach, her face twisted with worry. “Mr. Stonehart, the board is getting anxious—”
He cuts her off with a curt gesture. She slumps back. I recognize her voice from the phone call. But her youth makes no sense. Why would Stonehart employ someone who looks like she’s barely out of high school?